It's 7.30 on a cold, rainy Sunday morning in Swansea in January and I'm looking forward to a ride with my friend Dave Elvy, although it almost didn't happen: I found his street with some difficulty (it being on a new housing estate), found the house, number 15, and rang the bell. Nothing happened. OK, so he's still in bed. Rang again, waited for him to have time to get the door, and again. I was just on the point of leaving to do the ride on my own, and feeling pretty pissed off about being stood up (in the rain), when it dawned on my to check the number of the house whose bell I was ringing. Oh dear - number 11. Thank God no-one did in fact answer!
Having found Dave at number 15, we set off at about 8.25 for Rhandirmwyn via the Black Mountain in the drizzle and wind - me suited up like a astronaut (including my feet in plastic bags), Dave wearing just longs and a flo-yellow jacket with extensive venting in the sides and arms (like the "hard man" he is). In fact Dave did have one piece of special gear: a plastic bag which he stuffed down his tights over his dodgy knee, "to keep it warm".
I found the mountain quite hard. Didn't have to use the granny, but I was close to having to near the top. We were comfortably warm and sheltered from the wind on the mountain until we descended, but we soon warmed up as we pressed on through Llangadog to Llandovery. A few miles out we encountered a flooded road. As there was no real alternative we decided to go through it - carefully: we had just watched some other cyclists come through it from the other side, and one fell off and got a ducking - it was about two feet deep in the middle (and about 100 yards long). Dave carried his bike to save his bottom bracket. Probably wise. I hadn't realised how deep it was so I cycled and nearly fell off, not having selected a low enough gear. But then disaster! The plastic bags on my feet just filled up with water (of course) and had nowhere to drain, so I had to cycle for the rest of the day with my feet in bags of water :-)
We got to the pub at Rhandirmwyn at 11.30 to find it closed :-( Fortunately a lady inside spotted us and when she realised we were looking for hot drinks and food, kindly opened up for us. They really are nice people there. Both she and the landlord chatted to us for ages, mainly about how much mud mountain-bikers could bring into the pub - we were grateful to find a tiled floor and vinyl seats to sit on as we were soaking.
Much recovered after a Leisurely lunch (excellent tuna/pasta bake with chips, gallons of tea) we set off, still very wet (even under my new Gortex!?) for Pumpsaint to the west of Randirmwyn. This was a good call - the valley is really pretty and not unlike the end of the desert road from Rhayder although not as lumpy. I found the going really tough though. Possibly we had stopped for too long (about an hour!), but more likely I wasn't fit. I guess I got my second wind a bit further on, but it didn't last and I found the undulating road into Ammanford exhausting and we (i.e. me) had to slow up a fair bit. Dave and I went our separate ways at Pondardulais with 8 miles to get home which for me proved to be total agony! My speed dropped to about 10 mph on the flat and it seemed to take for ever. Got home, stiff and sore, after 95 miles, at about 5.30. Fortunately Anuj was up for preparing tea - I couldn't move and could barely keep my eyes open - I couldn't even be bothered to have a bath!
I was a bit disappointed with my time when I got in last night, but I'd mistakenly thought I'd been out for 10 not 9 hours. But given the foul weather, the fact that it was only my second time out on the bike this year, and the fact that our stop at Rhandirmwyn was the only stop (!), I am quite pleased now, although I still feel the 200 next weekend is going to be a challenge.
© Kilgore's Enterprises February 1997